


Completely Plastered

by Flantastic



Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Eve is great, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn, Q is a kinky little shit, Secret Relationship, Serious Injuries, Snogging, cranky!Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flantastic/pseuds/Flantastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission in Bruges goes horribly wrong, Bond finds himself confined to Medical.</p><p>In which Bond is a bloody awful patient, Eve is a crafty cow, Tanner is oblivious and Q has some wonderful ideas about how to relieve a 00's boredom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Completely Plastered

**Author's Note:**

> I've been editing this fic for roughly eighty years so I thought it might be time to stop poking at it and post the sodding thing! 
> 
> Be warned, as it might become obvious, I have no medical expertise. If you would be so good as to hang your disbelief on the coat-hook by the door, that'll be super.

The thing was…

The thing WAS he was so bloody close to getting away with it. He’d found the device on the first sweep and removed it from the mark’s car but the explosives were in a plain black canister and there was nothing visible apart from the small red numbers counting down inexorably to zero so Q couldn’t offer any advice on how to disarm it and he’d tried, he’d TRIED to get it away from the packed plaza in time, racing towards the canal with Q’s normally serene directions becoming more shrill and desperate as he begged Bond to just DROP THE FUCKING THING but there had been nuns and children and a brass band and motherfucking baby ducks that people were feeding for all he knew and God knows what the fuck else before he finally FINALLY found an empty stretch of water and threw the bomb and…

Everything went white.

Everything went black.

For a long time.

 

When he woke up the first thing he noticed was a monitor beeping. Possibly one of his least favourite sounds. The sound that told him he was in hospital. Again. He was awake just long enough to get pissed off at this before he passed back out.

He woke up again and the first thing he noticed was the pain when he tried to move his hands. He groaned and clumsily cradled them closer to his chest. A cool kiss of liquid was introduced through the needle that was taped to the inside of his left elbow. A woman he didn't recognise spoke.

“Relax Commander, we’ll be in London before you know it.” 

His brain helpfully pointed out that the noise he’d thought was the blood pounding in his ears was actually the sound of a transporter plane’s engines. And then less helpfully, it pointed out that he wasn't actually certain that he was in friendly hands. He lost consciousness again before he could find out.

If he didn't count the brief periods of almost-awareness that followed, the third time he woke up the first thing he noticed was that he was in the Medical section of MI6. 

 

Bond shifted and groaned as the aches in his body began to sing in chorus. He opened his eyes and squinted into the half-light of the subterranean room. Night time, then. He tried to sit up and realised his hands were both restrained, held aloft and wrapped in thick bandaging. He saw drains running from his elbows and guessed he’d been in surgery. Steeling himself, he tried to flex first the fingers on his left hand and then his right. He tried to tamp down the coil of panic in his gut when they barely moved. There was a low knock at the door and Doctor Kressler entered. Kressler was a senior at the department and he and James went way back. 

“We meet again, 007.” The doctor picked up the notes from the foot of the bed and began to read. “Juggling car bombs in Bruges. Not the most intelligent thing you've ever done.”

James grinned, trying to tamp down the fear for his hands which threatened to overwhelm him. The fear twisted in his gut at the potential damage to them. He couldn't help but wince at the stitches which pulled in several places on his face.

“It’s a hobby.”

The Doctor ignored his retort and thrust a digital thermometer into his mouth.

“Multiple lacerations and flash burns to your upper body. Unsurprisingly the worst damage was to your unclothed areas. Fifteen stitches to your face and scalp, fractured left orbital socket and cheekbone, some loss of eyebrow,” Kressler actually smirked at this. His face fell as he read off the rest of Bond’s injuries, “The majority of the deep lacerations were to your hands and forearms. Two hours-worth of surgery on your left side, three and a half on your right. Without boring you by giving you a blow-by-blow account, you've sustained broken bones, cut tendons and muscle damage as well as other lacerations. Early indicators however are good but you are facing a long period of rehabilitation.” Bond groaned as the thermometer was removed. Kressler examined it and made a note of the findings. “At least something about you is normal...” he muttered. He turned his attention to the monitors by Bond’s head. After making more notes he redirected his attention to his patient, fixing him with a humourless glare.

“You have sustained serious damage to both of your hands not mention the injuries to your dashingly handsome mug. Because these injuries were sustained whilst on our Majesty’s business you had the privilege of being operated on by not one but two of the best surgeons that this country can offer, one of whom I should say was whisked here from a much-deserved two-week holiday with his loving family in the Maldives. The result of this exemplary treatment thus far is that you should not suffer from too many long-term side-effects providing you follow your doctor’s and physiotherapist’s instructions to the letter. However, you will not over-stretch yourself. You will not ignore advice. You will take any and all medication offered without complaint. I will say this once and only once; your career is on the line here Bond. If you fuck up your recovery, your future as a 00 is in doubt. Be a good boy, take it easy for once in your fucking life and give yourself time to heal properly.” He replaced the clipboard, hooking it over the rail at the end of the bed.  
“Right! That’s me done. I’m out of here, I have a plane to catch. Do you have any questions?”

“Just one. How is Malé at this time of year Simon?”

“Fuck you James. See you in ten days.” With a half-smile he left to go back to his holiday. 

Bond closed his eyes and frowned. He’d wager good money that Simon hadn't thought twice before catching the ten-hour flight back to London to operate on him. He wondered how soon it was after Bond had been injured that he’d been summoned. The smile faded as he thought over Kressler’s words. His future as a 00 in doubt. He’d been told that before and he’d shrugged it off but he’d been a younger man then. And he’d only had himself to think of… He briefly wondered where his partner was. An automated syringe activated and administered a cocktail of drugs. With a sigh, he allowed sleep to take him again.

The department was in day mode when he next awoke, the lights bright and glaring. 

Q stood at the foot of his bed, his fingers restlessly fiddling with the bottom button-hole in his cardigan. When he saw Bond’s eyes open the worried frown on his face melted into a sunny smile. He reached into his pocket and withdrew what looked like a small radio. He depressed the button on it and slipped it back into his pocket, hurrying to James’ side. 

“Oh James. Your poor hands,” he stroked the line of stitches on his cheek, his expression darkening again, “your poor face.”

James was pleasantly surprised when Q gently took his face in his hands and kissed him.

“What happened to ‘not at work’?” he asked when they finally came up for air. Q looked at him shyly and sat on the side of the mattress. He pulled the little device out of his pocket again to show him.

“Remote access to the camera feed. I started a loop of me standing at the foot of your bed. As far as the cameras know, I’m there watching you sleep right now.”

“And that’s not creepy at all…” 

Q shrugged as he smoothed his hand down Bond’s chest. He fiddled with the blanket’s material absently as he took in the wires and tubes connected to him.

“I was so worried.” He said quietly, “Why didn't you just drop the fucking thing and run?” 

“I’m sorry. Too many potential civilian casualties.” 

Q dropped his head.

“The bomb disrupted the com-line,” he said in a low, broken voice, “R managed to pull up a traffic camera that had a view of the canal and all I could see was you lying there, not moving in a pool of your own blood and all I could think w-was…” Q balled his hands into tight fists, anger and sorrow combining and threatening to choke him. James shifted as he immediately tried to reach out to him with his useless hands. Q took a deep breath as tears began to track down his face. Bond watched him in amazement. In all the time he’d know Q he’d never seen him break down like this. “All I could think was that you were dead and my h-heart was fucking breaking and nobody k-knew how much I loved you, y-you fucking idiot.”

“I knew… I know”

Q hid his face in his hands until he’d regained his composure and then slid them around until he was rubbing the back of his neck. James watched him silently, giving him time and wishing he could be the one to massage away Q’s tension. For all his youth and apparent delicacy Bond knew that under the well-worn jumpers and riotous hair, Q was as hard as nails. It was one of the reasons he’d been attracted to him in the first place. This whip-thin, apparently mild creature had a British bulldog spirit and tenacity paired with a razor-sharp mind like no other person James had ever met. For him to break down like this, to be unable to keep his composure… Bond didn’t want to think what he’d put him through by getting injured. He said nothing and waited for the maelstrom of his emotions to pass. When Q finally moved his hands away, he looked calmer and he chuffed out a humourless laugh.

“Fucking hell! I knew falling for a 00 had its disadvantages…” He roughly brushed away a stray tear, “The last 48 hours have been a bastard.”

“I can see that.”  


“I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten… I've been throwing myself into my work waiting to be able to see you.”

“So what else is new?” Asked James dryly, going for levity; “You've always been a skinny little workaholic since long before I started shagging you.” 

Q laughed outright.

“Screw you 007. I take back everything I said.” James smiled as Q leaned in to kiss him again.

“No you don’t, Tom.”

“No,” he murmured against his lips, “I don’t, James.” 

They stayed like that for several minutes, kissing languorously and thoroughly before Q placed a careful hand on James’ chest and pushed himself away. He looked at his watch. “I've got to go,” he indicated the camera in the corner, “I’ll be watching though. Be good and I might come to see you again later.” 

“I’ll hunt you down if you don’t.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he laughed, indicating the number of ways James was attached to the bed and surrounding equipment. James grinned.

“Is that a dare?”

“No it is bloody well not!!” Q said as he walked to the door. “Behave yourself or I shall know.” He pointed to the camera one last time as he left.

As soon as he was gone, James sank back down into his pillows. Exhaustion, never far away, overwhelmed him again. He looked up at his useless hands and sighed. Another couple of seconds and he could have come to back London under his own steam, taken Q to dinner and spent the night with him in his arms. Instead he was stuck here facing an uncertain future. A small part of his subconscious started whispering;

What if you’re never able to fire a gun again?

What if they retire you?

What if you end up not being able to even tie your own shoelaces?

What if he decides he doesn't want you broken and useless?

He turned his head away from the camera in the corner and, if a tear fell, it was nobody’s business but his own.

 

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!! I WILL PISS THE BED IF IT COMES TO IT BUT YOU WILL NOT ATTACH THAT FUCKING THING TO ME AGAIN!”

Doctor Conroy came into the room to find Bond lying with his legs up, glaring at the nurse who was trying to refit his catheter.

“Commander Bond, if you’d just…” She motioned as if to step towards the bed.

“I will kick your fucking teeth out if you try to come near me with that thing, so help me God…”

“What’s the problem?” Asked Conroy smoothly. Bond knew that she knew exactly what (or rather who) the problem was – she’d seen enough 00s to realise that they made the worst patients and he was in no mood to disappoint her. Bond had been here three days now, fully alert for one of them, and he was driving her staff insane. James glared at her and pulled his legs higher up the bed like a petulant child.

“Nurse Ratched here wants to stick another fucking piss tube on my cock because apparently she doesn't believe that 00 agents have any kind of FUCKING BLADDER CONTROL.”

“Commander, you are immobile at the moment and it would be better if…” Conroy interrupted her.

“Yes, thank you Nurse Jones. The catheter was necessary while Commander Bond was unconscious but I think we can manage to bring him a bed pan now, should the need arise, can’t we?”

The nurse flushed and nodded as she gathered her equipment and left in a huff. Conroy watched her go before turning to her patient.

“She’s new. Did you really have to shout at her like that?”

“She’s a fucking idiot…” Bond muttered.

“So how did you manage to dislodge the one that was fitted anyway?”

James winced.

“You… Commander Bond, tell me you didn’t rip it off!”

James tried a sunny smile.

“It was taped into place!!!” She exclaimed.

With a sigh she pinched the bridge of her nose. She went to the glove dispenser by the sink.

“If you try kick my teeth out Bond, I’ll see to it you’re never be able to physically know the love of a woman ever again…” James lay quietly as Conroy lowered the sheet and raised his gown. He allowed her to gently part his legs and examine him. Palpating his penis, she watched him flinch as she ran her finger over a red patch of skin where the surgical tape had secured the apparatus.

“You’re an idiot,” she said kindly, “would it've killed you to ask to have it removed?”

“I did. Silly bitch refused.”

“So you what, hooked your toes into the line and decided to go for it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, aside from the attempt at auto-circumcision, I think we’re okay down here. We promise not to insert anything else up here if you promise not to rip anything else out. Speaking of ripping things out, it’s looking good for you to lose the drains in your hands this evening. We’ll be able to lay them down so you look a little less like a marionette.”

James allowed her to lay his legs flat and replace his gown. She fussed his sheet back into position, smoothing it.

“So how long until I get out of here?”

“Sick of our hospitality already?” She patted his chest. “Walk before you can run, James. Give it time.” He harrumphed. “I mean it Bond! Give it time to…” She picked up his notes. “Sweet Jesus Christ save me from double 0 agents… It says here you haven’t been eating! You know how important it is for you to keep your calorie intake up…”

“Do you blame me? One of the orderlies tried to force-feed me yet another frankly fucking awful meal earlier. I’m not even entirely sure what it was supposed to be…”

“Bond, it’s hardly my staff’s fault if you can’t feed yourself and you know damn well our chef used to work at The Savoy.”

“I haven’t eaten there for years. Dreadful place.”

“Your problem is you spend too much time swanning around five star hotels and resorts and…”

“Is he being an arse, Doctor?”

They both looked up to see Q standing with a large brown lunch bag in his hand. Looking slightly nervous at having interrupted the doctor and dressed in a checked shirt with mustard yellow tie and a pair of truly hideous brown corduroy trousers, he looked for all the world like an intern on his first day rather than one of the most important department heads at MI6. Conroy replaced the notes and went to leave.

“You could say that. Keep him company if you like Quartermaster, I’ll be back in an hour or so with ‘Nurse Ratched’ to remove Commander Bond’s drains.” She paused at the door, looking back at James. “It’s interesting that you chose that as a nickname for her. You do know Ratched was a nurse in a loony bin, don’t you?” She laughed as she left.

Q watched her go before grabbing a chair and sitting himself down next to James. The staff in Medical had become used to him visiting Bond during his breaks and after realising he was no bother allowed him to pretty much come and go as he pleased. He placed the bag on his lap and opened it. The most delicious smell wafted out.

“I brought you something…” Reaching in, he drew out a single grape and placed it on Bond’s chest.

“A grape.”

“Yep.”

“A single fucking grape.”

“Yes.”

“You tight git.”

Q laughed.

“Well if you don’t want it…”

He snatched up the small fruit and tossed it into his mouth. Bond laughed with him.

“You lousy, sneaky, tight-arsed…” Q grinned still chewing and reaching into his bag he drew out a small box with ‘Maison Bertaux’ printed on the side. “… is… is that…?” Q lifted off the lid to reveal a choux pastry covered with chocolate, cream and fresh fruit. He tore off a piece topped with a slice of strawberry and lifted it to James’ lips. He opened his mouth eagerly and groaned as the sweetness of the cream and the tartness of the fruit flooded his tongue. 

“Oh my God Tom. That is so fucking good.” Q tore another piece off and fed it to him. He had been delighted when he’d first discovered that the hard-drinking, hard-living agent had a sweet tooth and loved to indulge him when he got the chance.

“I might have known that hospital food wouldn’t have been your thing.” Bond raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Moneypenny told me you hadn't been eating."

“Moneypenny should learn to keep her bloody mouth shut.” Bond muttered. “So what? You just thought you’d go and visit my favourite London patisserie and get me my favourite sweet?” Q nodded and took a mouthful himself before giving Bond another piece which he moaned around. “I’m going to marry you.” He stated with his mouth full, “Then I’m going to screw you on the front steps of Buckingham Palace so everyone in England knows you're mine. Then I’m going to hack the BBC’s broadcast signal and tell the whole fucking world just how special you are and…” Q put the final morsel in his mouth. He chewed quickly and swallowed, “And then I’m going to spend the rest of my life worshipping you and…” Q bent over him and licked the side of James’ mouth, catching a stray dab of cream.

“How about you get better first?”

“I can do that. What else is in the bag?”

They spent the next hour talking, Q producing both sweet and savoury treat after treat from his bag and feeding them to James. When they were done, he balled up the bag and threw it into the bin. Turning back his attention to the patient he stroked his bicep.  
“I missed you again last night.” James raised an eyebrow as Q frowned, trying to find the words. “It’s different to when you’re away on mission. When you’re out of the country I sleep okay, not brilliantly but okay. It’s like, I know you’re somewhere else. Somewhere that’s ‘away’ but the last few nights… last night in particular I missed you so fucking much. Knowing that you were in the same city as me but I couldn't be near you.” He caressed his jaw. “I couldn't sleep, not one wink.” James sighed as Q kissed him softly. “I need you to get well soon Darling. I need you back in my bed where I can keep an eye on you and look after you.” He’d barely sat back in his chair when Doctor Conroy entered with the nurse. James watched the way that Q’s cheeks pinked at how close they’d been to being found out.

“Right Bond. I’ll call in again on my way home. Leave you to it.”

James smiled as he left.

“I do believe our young quartermaster has a little crush on you Commander.” The doctor remarked.  
He raised an eyebrow nonchalantly.

“Really? I hadn't noticed...”

 

Around ten PM, Bond lay dozing when Q returned. He started when he touched his shoulder, muzzily squinting at him.

“Tom… all done for the night?”

“All done. How are you feeling?”

“Better now the drains are out.” His hands now rested on his stomach. “Another day or two and they’ll be thinking about letting the physios have a look at me.” Q placed his satchel onto the floor and sat back on the chair, settling himself. “Conroy thinks you have a crush on me.” 

“What did you say?”

“I said you weren't my type.” James grinned at him, teasing.

Q raised an eyebrow and smirked. 

“Oh really? That’s a shame…” 

“How so?”

Q shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. The door was shut. He leaned forward.

“You should expand your horizons, give me a try sometime…”

Bond grinned, wondering where this was going.

“That good eh?”

Q loosened his tie.

“I do this thing,” he said in a low voice, undoing the top button of his shirt, “I strip naked ever so slowly…” He smoothed his hand over James’ chest, scratching over a nipple through the thin cotton of his hospital gown with his nails, being careful not to jostle his hands. “And then I open myself up. Loads of lube, working up to four fingers slipping and sliding inside myself and if I’m precise, if I arch right back and spread my legs as wide as they go, I can catch my prostate just right and make myself come without touching my dick. And then, when I’m finally done, when I've milked myself dry, I’m so relaxed you can fuck right into me with no resistance at all… up to the hilt in one. Long. Thrust.”

James groaned as he felt his cock stiffen. They’d done exactly that the night before he’d gone on mission. He closed his eyes as he remembered Q riding his own fingers, his belly taut, his head thrown back as he came writhing and smearing the towel he’d placed below his wide-spread legs with come. When he was still shivering with pleasure James had thrown him back onto the bed, pushed his knees back and thrust into his gaping hole.

Q’s hand slid lower, down under the sheet and caressed James’ thigh.

“And then, because I’m so sensitive from coming, if you touch my dick it’s almost too much and it drives me wild.” James shifted as Q slid his hand under the sheet and stroked the side of his leg. “And it makes me writhe and sob and cry out and it must feel wonderful if you’re fucking me. Making me buck like that.”

Q’s warm fingers found the edge of his hospital robe and played with the hem.

“Q…” James tried to argue, to say this wasn't the time or the place, that someone would come in and see them but the words failed him.

His hand slid up Bond’s inner thigh and he fingers brushed his bollocks lightly. James gasped softly and shifted.

“Does it feel good James? Does it feel good when you drive me crazy? When you hold me down and fuck me until I come all over again?”

“Fucking hell Tom…Yes! Yes it feels so good!” James shuddered as Q gripped his shaft and began to stroke him. “Christ, I hope you've worked your magic on that camera again…”

“Actually, we’re streaming live to every monitor in the building.” Q joked. Then his eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Really James? Did you really just twitch when I said that?” He stroked faster. “Does the idea of that turn you on? Does the great 007 want everyone to see him come? To see him shoot his load right here, right now?” James groaned as Q drew back his foreskin, smearing pre-come down the shaft. Glancing over his shoulder again, Q flicked down the sheet and lifted the robe humming approval as James was stripped bare from his sternum to his knees.  
“Oh baby I am SO glad you didn't fuck anyone on your last mission and I don’t need a condom on this. I want to taste you when you come…” he whispered before bending low and licking across his glans. James shouted and then whimpered as Q’s hot mouth enveloped him. He could see the silhouettes of staff passing through the corridor outside through the frosted glass window in the door. He closed his eyes and hoped to God that nobody walked in before they were done. 

Not that he was going to last in any case. He felt utterly helpless, pinned to the bed unable to move his useless hands. He jerked his legs, shuddering with every stroke of Q’s tongue. Writhing, he didn't know if he was trying to get away from the intense sensations or thrust into the welcoming heat of Q’s mouth. Q moved his hand lower and grasped his bollocks, squeezing and twisting slightly as he took him all in. James felt himself brush up against the back of Q’s throat and when he swallowed, the muscles fluttered around the head of his cock. That was all it took. With a strangled cry he came, pumping his hips and pulsing into Q’s mouth.

Q gently released him once his tremors had stopped and stroked his belly and thighs briefly before re-covering him. He smiled and lent over to kiss his forehead, smoothing his hair back.

“You are a wicked, wicked boy.”

Q hummed in agreement and kissed him again, this time on the lips. James groaned when the kiss deepened and he tasted himself. He hungrily licked into Q’s mouth, chasing the bitter tang with his tongue. When they eventually broke the kiss, Q’s lips looked wet and flushed and his eyes sparkled.

“You really do bring out the worst in me but it’s all your fault. How can I be expected to resist you lying there, all helpless and unable to stop me? It’s a good look on you.”

“You’re fucking evil.”

“You fucking love it.”

James smiled as Q rested his head on James’ chest and looked up at him adoringly.

“I do,” he admitted, “I really do.”

At a quiet knock on the door Q immediately sat bolt upright, grinning at James. He mouthed the word “oops” - so very nearly busted yet again. The door opened and Tanner appeared.

“Bond! How are you, you old dog?” He came in with a bouquet of flowers which he plonked unceremoniously on the small table across the foot of the bed. “From the staff in Admin. Well, I say the staff; it was the girls. They were fighting over who got to bring them down here so I thought I’d volunteer, to head-off any bitch fights. Would have brought them sooner but unlike some lazy bastards who seem to think it’s acceptable to doss around in bed all day, we've actually been working…” James watched as Q stood up and offered Tanner his chair. He put his coat on, standing behind him.

“Right 007. I’ll be off as there’s someone else here to entertain you now. I've got some pressing business I need to sort out.” He winked and surreptitiously grasped his crotch where Bond could clearly see the outline of his erection. Before he could fully process what he was looking at, Q zipped up his Parka jacket, hiding it from view. “Do you want me to call in again tomorrow?” Bond shrugged, hoping to God he looked cool.

“If you like. Bring more food.” Q rolled his eyes.

“Your wish is my command, Commander. Although, I’d be worried about getting fat if I were you.”

“The day you get fat is the day the world tilts off its axis, you skinny bastard...”

“Oh, the gratitude…” Q sighed as he turned and left.

Oblivious to the men’s gentle flirting, Tanner watched Q go before turning back to James.

“So anyway, M called me into his office yesterday. Apparently 003 had got himself into a bit of trouble on this llama farm in California and…”

James only half listened as Tanner related his funny story about Jackson and an exceedingly horny llama. He was too busy wondering just how Q was going to take care of his ‘business’.

 

The ‘Llama Incident’, as it quickly became known, escalated and Q had very little time to visit Bond for the next seventy-two hours as Jackson’s mission was upgraded from a code green (routine investigation) to a code amber (possible imminent terror threat on British or allied territories). Q popped in when he could but his visits were infrequent and fleeting (if you didn't count the one when he came in at four o’clock one morning, sat in the chair next to the bed and promptly fell asleep for three hours). As a result, Bond got steadily crankier.

Tanner and Moneypenny both called in and tried to keep Bond entertained but much as he liked them it was Q he wanted. He was revisited by Conroy who was happy to replace the thick bandages around his hands with rigid plaster after inspecting his stitches. This at least stopped him worrying about knocking his injuries. He underwent a series of tests to ensure that his cranial fractures hadn't caused any long term damage. They hadn't but this only served to annoy Bond more as he was no longer in any need of what he considered to be vital medical care. This started another argument with the doctor when he told her as much.

“So why can’t I be discharged?” James hated the desperation in his voice but the walls of his room really felt like they were closing in without Q’s regular visits. Not that he could admit to that.

“For the last time Bond! You are a single man! You live on your own! I’m not saying that you couldn't ‘whip out your cock if you needed to piss’ as you so charmingly put it, but the fact remains that with two hands in cast you won’t be able to feed or bathe yourself and what would happen in an emergency?”

“I could ask someone to come and stay with me.”

“Who, exactly? It says on your record you have no next of kin. You've admitted on record that the closest you have to a family is 006 and he’s off somewhere in Antarctica at the moment. I can’t see M pulling him out and scrubbing his mission so he can play nursemaid to you Bond!”

“I could hire someone…”

“Oh yes, because the last time that worked out so well for you! We all remember when you broke your leg in 2005. You told the old M that you’d hired a nurse…”

“She was a lovely girl…”

“…she was a high class call girl in a nurse’s uniform!! You’re not to be trusted!”

“I don’t know where you get that idea.”

Conroy smirked and showed him the front of the medical records she had in her hands. Clearly printed across the front cover, in Kressler’s handwriting in red ink, were the words ‘DO NOT TRUST THIS AGENT’.

“You’re fucking joking me.”

Conroy’s smiled intensified. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” She put down the notes and came to sit next to him. “Seriously though, you need to be careful James. I would hate to see you do some long term damage to yourself by overdoing it. You could jeopardise your future career and then where would you be? Let’s make a deal. If you can find someone to move in with you for a couple of weeks and if… and I really want to emphasise this… IF the physiotherapists are happy with your progress by the start of next week I will be willing to discharge you. But in the meantime, you will behave; you will not antagonise any of my staff, you will eat properly and you will stop trying to sneak out of here every time you think we’re not looking.” She pointed at the camera. “We are always looking.” James sighed outwardly (and briefly wondered how effective Q’s measures had been during ‘that’ visit).

“It’s a deal.” 

Conroy got up to leave.

“I would ask you to shake on it but… you know.” 

James scowled at her.

“I suppose you think that’s funny?”

Conroy didn’t answer as she left but swayed her hips a little cockily. James grinned. Out in a week. Not brilliant but close enough.

 

That evening Q came in, the crisis finally over. He looked dreadful. His hair was lank and he appeared to be in the same clothes as he’d been wearing two days previously. James couldn't wait to tell him his good news but waited patiently until Q had finished telling him about his week.

“… so then the senator got back in touch and tried to tell M that we couldn't carry out the operation despite the fact that we’d already carried it out so we had to do some pretty serious back-tracking to cover Jackson’s arse and if I never have to scrub another security feed archive again it’ll be too fucking soon…” He yawned loudly. “Fuck. I need to sleep.”

“Tom, I have some good news.” 

Q’s drooping eyes reopened and he looked interested.

“Are they letting you out?”

“Kind of. Conroy’s said if I recover enough by the start of next week she’ll let me go.”

“James, that’s brilliant!” Q leaned forward, the joy evident on his face.

“I’ll need a nominated house mate for a week or so though. Conroy’s seen you here often enough, I thought that if you were to tell her…”

Q’s happy expression fell and he shook his head.

“No.”

James stopped dead, pausing before he spoke again.

“W-what do you mean ‘no’?”

Q rested his hand on James’s shoulder.

“Look at me. I haven’t been home for three days, I haven’t slept for two. I can’t put myself forward offering to look after you, I can barely look after myself. If something happened to you when I was stuck here I’d never forgive myself. I’m sorry Darling, I can’t do it. I wish I could.”

James felt his good mood evaporate, replaced by the first embers of anger. He shrugged off Q’s hand and hissed as his wrist complained at the sudden movement. Q’s eyes widened and he looked concerned which pissed off James even more.

“Fine. I’ll fucking well stay here then.”

He knew he was being childish but his frustration of being trapped in Medical for so long saw an escape and he was unable to stop it from spewing out of him as anger.

“James…”

“No. Fuck off. I’ll just fucking rot here for another couple of weeks. I thought you wanted me back home but you obviously don’t want me that badly.” James’s words cut into Q and he looked stunned.

“Please… I only meant…”

“What? What did you mean?” James snapped, his fury gripping him fully now, “That you don’t mind me warming your bed when I can hold you down and fuck you into the mattress but you don’t want a broken old attack dog littering up the place when he’s outlived his usefulness? That you only want me around when you can get something out of it? Or are you worried that someone might put two and two together and come up with you taking my cock up your arse? Wouldn't want to tarnish the wunderkind’s reputation by outing him, would we?”

“James!” Q’s soft cry of distress finally silenced him. The young man’s eyes glittered as he got up. “I… I can’t do this now. I’m too tired. I need to sleep…eat something… I’ll… I’ll see you later. I’m covering the late shift tomorrow…” Q looked dazed as he grabbed his coat and laptop bag and turned to leave, stumbling over the chair. James’s stomach lurched with dread as Q walked towards the door, his anger evaporating.

“Tom. Shit, Tom… I didn’t mean…”

Q stopped at the door, not turning to look back at James.

“I can’t do this now.” He repeated quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He looked down, hesitating. “I love you James, I really do but I hate it when you act like a prick.”

James watched him leave and shuddered. What the fuck was that? Why had he just said those things to Q? He tried to get out of bed to follow him but got snarled in the sheets and almost fell out. He stopped himself just in time. Sitting on the side of the mattress, he trembled.

What if he’d fucked it up?

What if he’d fucked them up?

 

James fretted all the next day, wondering when he’d get to see Q again. All through his physio session (he was regaining significant movement in his fingers – which was good - but it hurt like a bitch – which wasn’t), meal times (they trusted him with a spoon now –which was good - but he still had to be helped - which he hated) and the doctor’s assessments. He submitted to it all quietly, by turn surprising and worrying the medical staff. Moneypenny dropped by at teatime and cooed over his injuries which were all progressing well. She’d been in a few times over the week, offering a bed bath or to rub things better which usually made James laugh and flirt back but currently his heart just wasn't in it. She sighed after several attempts to engage him in conversation and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms and straightening her back.

“Come on then.”

He raised an eyebrow and cracked open an eye. His ruse of pretending to nod off obviously hadn't worked.

“Hmm?”

“What gives?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bollocks. You’re hardly a shining ray of sunshine and puppies on your best days in here but you’re seriously miserable today. So, I repeat, what gives?”

He sighed.

“I’m stuck in here Eve. I don’t know when I’m getting out and…”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You were stuck in here yesterday and the day before and you weren’t like this. Is it Q?”

Bond’s brain stuttered, trying to think of an appropriate response. Eve cut in.

“Too slow. So it is Q. Did you two fight?”

“Moneypenny…”

“He was acting like a tyrant when he came into R&D this afternoon, actually shouting at the technicians if you can believe it, and then I come in here and your face actually fell when you realised it was me. Now normally a girl might be offended but…” James tried to respond and she held up on finger like a schoolteacher, effectively cutting him off, “I may not be an active field agent but I completed all the training and I excel at reading body language. Q spends all his spare time in here, you both seem to disappear on the same weekends and don’t think that nobody noticed that he had a week’s holiday last time you were off mission…”

“Eve.” James’s voice was quiet, wrecked.

She sighed and moved in closer. She placed a cool hand on his forehead before smoothing back his hair, her long fingernails scrubbing lightly over his scalp.

“You silly boys,” She scolded softly, “What did you do?”

James couldn’t look her in the eye as he recounted the argument from the previous night. When he got to the part about Q grabbing his coat and walking out he felt himself choking. He turned his face away from her.

“What if I’ve fucked it up Eve? You should have seen the look on his face. And when I first got here after I was injured… he… I don’t want to keep hurting him. I don’t deserve him. Maybe it would be better if we …” He looked back at Eve and trailed off mid-sentence when he saw her glaring at him. “What?”

“You’re a prick.”

“That’s what he said.”

“Then he obviously had a point.” She sat back, smoothing her skirt. James braced himself for her response. She had ‘that’ look in her eye which meant she was about to impart advice whether he wanted to hear it or not.

“If, as you say, this thing with Q is going well then that would explain why he’s been so happy in the last few months. Even M has commented how well he and his department is doing. If that’s a result of you being with him then that’s a good thing. James, you may have noticed that despite his boyish, shy exterior, Q’s balls are every bit as iron-clad as your own. He is committed, determined, brave and strong-willed. Once he sets his mind to something he absolutely will not be swayed from getting what he wants. You complement each other. You’re obviously smitten and so obviously perfect for each other. He’s not going to run screaming at the first sign of the legendary Bond temper.”

James swallowed hard, moved by what she’d said. For a moment he was speechless, afraid to open his mouth and lay himself bare to her. When he did trust himself to speak, he did so with a wry smile.

“Actually, they’re rather soft.”

“What are?”

“They’re not actually iron-clad. One hangs slightly lower than the other and it drives him crazy when I cup them in my palm and roll my…”

“Oh my GOD! You’re describing his balls to me aren't you? JAMES!!!”

He chuckled as she stood up primly.

“You’re incorrigible. When he comes to see you, you should tell him that you love him.” She patted his leg. “And don’t worry, he loves you too much to throw it all away over a silly argument.”

“And you know this how exactly?”

“Because of the look he gets when he talks about you. He thinks he can hide it but he can’t. And James? If someone looked like that when they talked about me I’d never let them go.” She smiled as she left.

 

Q returned around 2am.

Despite having just finished his shift he looked so much better than the previous day. He’d changed his clothes and obviously showered, his freshly-washed hair back curling softly around his face. He must have slept too as his skin had lost its ashen appearance. James struggled to sit up when he entered so Q came to the bed and, dropping his coat, helped him with his pillows. He cleared his throat.

“Tom”, he began, “about last night…”

Q held his face and kissed him softly, before drawing him into a gentle embrace. James shivered and rested his head on his shoulder feeling the tension in his own shoulders relax. He clumsily brought his hands up to try to hug him. Q pulled back and kissed him again, every bit as gently as the first time.

“You watch your hands.” He admonished before holding him close again. 

They stayed like that for several minutes, James enjoying the warmth of Q’s body. When Q finally broke the embrace, he kissed James’s cheek as he pulled back.

“I want to apologise.”

James looked at him in amazement.

“You want to apologise?”

“I was tired. I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have turned you down flat like that. I’d just had such a shitty week and my initial reaction was that I’d couldn't help you – that I’d fail you. It wasn't that I didn't want you. Not that. Never that.” James wasn't sure what to say. “I’m also sorry I called you a prick. It’s not that you weren't acting like one, you were, but I can’t imagine how frustrating all this must be for you and I didn't exactly help matters.” 

“I’m sorry too. I’m going crazy in here but it’s no excuse to have said those things. I love you Tom, please…” Q kissed him again, smoothing his brow with his clever hands, stroking his lips and shushing him.

“I love you too James, so very much. I spoke to M this evening. I hope you don’t mind but I came clean about us and said I needed time out of the office to look after you.”

“How did that go?”

“He seemed remarkably unsurprised.”

James huffed out a gruff laugh.

“Moneypenny.”

“That was my guess. She did seem very pleased with herself as I left M’s office. I also spoke to Conroy. It’s all sorted. As soon as you’re allowed to leave I’m entrusting the day-to-day general running of the branch to R – that’s something I probably should have done some time ago anyway – barring any emergencies, I can work from home on special projects for as long as it takes.”

Q leaned over him and James sighed as he licked into his mouth. He shifted, suddenly warming as Q deepened the kiss, making small noises of satisfaction. When he eventually came up for air, James smiled.

“What did I do to deserve you? You’re so good to me.”

Q grinned.

“Oh that’s not all.”

“It’s not?”

“Oh no.” 

Q went to the door and, after opening it and quickly checking up and down the hallway, he locked it. As he walked back to the bed he pulled the privacy screen around and toed off his shoes. James’s mouth suddenly felt very dry.

“What are you doing?”

Q’s hands dropped to his waist and he very slowly undid his belt, pulling it free from his trousers.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

James watched speechless as Q undid the button on his waistband and slowly undid the zip.

“You see it occurred to me – after I was done being angry with you - that it must be very frustrating to be lying here all day…” his trousers fell to his ankles and he stepped out of them. “… so I got to thinking; how I could help relieve that frustration?" James moaned as Q hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and drew them slowly down over his hips, revealing his erection.  
“So I made sure I was ready,” he murmured as he came to the bed and pulled the bedding away from James. He hopped up and straddled him before slowly pulling out the hospital gown from between them. James shivered as the rough cotton brushed across his hardening prick. “Three fingers James. In my office. Leaning over my desk. Anyone could’ve come in.” He shifted his hips, his balls brushing James’s sensitive crown. They both moaned. “It’s like in here isn't it? I've locked the door but all the staff have keys. Anyone could come in and find us. Watch us.” 

Q bumped his hips again and James groaned. He looked gorgeous; from the waist up demure in his office shirt, tie and cardigan but naked from the waist down, the tip of his cock dripping pre-come onto James’s stomach. Q reached into a pocket of his cardigan and took out a sachet of lube. Tearing it open with his teeth he emptied it out onto his palm. Shifting back he gently held James’s cock. He hissed as he felt Q’s warm hand smooth the cool liquid over his burning skin. 

“Tom…”

“Shhh. I have you.”

Q raised himself up and, positioning James beneath him, sank down in one smooth, slow action.

“Jesus!” James exclaimed as he was engulfed by Q’s hot body. His channel was a furnace, vice-tight and smooth as it gripped him. He trembled with the effort not to buck his hips and fuck up into him. Q paused with his eyes closed as his body relaxed, a faint crease of concentration between his eyebrows.

“So full,” he whispered, almost to himself, “so good. So HOT.” James could only watch as he unzipped his cardigan, stripped it off and threw it onto the floor, fever-bright spots forming on his cheeks as he flushed. He tried to loosen his tie which immediately snarled up into a knot. Unable to remove it, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he began to rock languidly back onto James’s cock. He pulled the shirt open but gave up and left it on when the collar snagged on his tie. He rolled his hips before bracing his hands on James’s chest and pushing up onto the soles of his feet. Drawing himself up, he leaned back, grasping James’s thighs for purchase before sinking back down.

James trembled at the sight of his lover as he rose again. His legs spread wide, his long pale torso flanked by the stark white of his shirt, flushed and smeared with the moisture oozing from the tip of his rampant cock. Q threw his head back and whined as he sank down again, James’s cock disappearing into him inch by torturous inch. 

“Q… oh fuck… oh Darling…”

Q braced his hands and began to speed up his movements. He gasped as he found his rhythm; squeezing his internal muscles on the up-strokes before slamming back down. James had to fight to prevent his eyes from rolling up into his head, greedily drinking in the sight of him. He sobbed as Q’s pace became frantic, his cock slapping down onto James’s stomach with every brutal stroke. James moaned as he felt his balls constrict.

“Q… TOM… I’m… going…to…”

James’s words seemed to awaken Q who rocked forward onto his knees, never stopping grinding his hips.

“Me too… so close… so good… James, I want you to touch me…”

Before James could protest his injuries, Q leaned forward and carefully lifted James’s hands, gently guiding them to brush his fingertips down his lean abdomen. He shivered at the contact.

“Can you feel it James? Can you feel how turned on I am? You feel so good inside me.” He moved James’s hands lower so that his fingers brushed against Q’s cock which was now rubbing lightly over James’s skin with every forward motion. “Oh God James, feels so good. Please… just…“ Q’s hips stuttered as the skin of his cock went velvet-tight. “Please…” James clumsily moved his hands so that his fingertips rested on the back of Q’s prick, pushing it down so the crown dragged through the golden hair on his belly with every stroke.

“Oh…” Q threw his head back as he became overwrought and came, pulsing his issue over his lover’s chest. James forgot about letting Q maintain control and fucked up into him, each savage thrust rewarded by another spurt of come. Once Q’s spasms had slowed James pushed his casts down onto Q’s thighs, effectively trapping him as he pounded up into his hole. Over sensitised, Q fell forward sobbing onto James’s chest as he was fucked. Moving his casts over his back, James hugged Q to him as best he could, thrusting up into him with bruising force. Moments later, with a barely controlled roar into the side of his neck, James came. He had just enough presence of mind to bite into the soft skin under his lips in an attempt to muffle himself as he spent into his lover’s body. 

They lay still afterwards, Q slumped over James bonelessly. He gently licked his sweat-salted neck where he’d sunk his teeth in.

“Not so helpless now, eh Quartermaster?”

Q huffed out a laugh and ducked his head to kiss and lick at James’s shoulder.

“Not so much, no.”

He placed his hands on James’s chest and gently pushed up, keeping their bodies joined. He shifted slightly and they both hissed as James’s softening member slipped slightly. Q licked his lips and grinned at him, looking utterly debauched with his shirt and tie still clinging to him. The bite mark on his neck already purpling. 

“God. Look at you. Beautiful. I thought I was going to pass out for a minute there. How do you do that? How can you be so fucking professional and nerdy one minute but get me screaming the next? And how the fuck did we not get disturbed just them? We were loud enough to wake the dead!”

Q smiled and scooped up some of his rapidly cooling come from James’s chest and licked his fingers. Leaning over James he kissed him deeply, letting him taste the bitter salt as his cock finally slipped free. When he eventually came up for air, he whispered into his mouth.

“I may have told Conroy a PG version of what I intended to do tonight. She thought it might stop you being such a mardy bastard if I could relieve some of your tension so she informed the nightshift that we were not to be disturbed. We have until 7am…”

James kissed him again.

“Well, in that case, I want to taste you. Get that gorgeous cock of yours up here.”

Q laughed and lightly kissed his nose before crawling up the bed. He positioned himself so that he knelt over James, one knee on either side of his head. He ran one hand over his cock which had begun to show interest in proceedings again while he grasped the rails at the top of the bed with the other.

“Is this what you want?” He stroked his foreskin up over the crown and then brushed it over James’s lips. James raised his head and greedily lapped at the tip before trying to take it in his mouth. He growled when Q shifted his hips away. “But what if I don’t want to? What if I've had quite enough sex for one night?” His voice was light but his hand betrayed him as his stroking sped up.

“Q…” James’s voice was a warning.

With a sigh that seemed to indicate that it was a terrible burden to be endured, Q shifted forwards again and slowly slipped the head in past James’s eager lips.

“That’s my government-sanctioned assassin.” Q crooned, smiling as he felt James’s tongue.

 

James stirred at the sound of the door opening at 6.45am. Conroy came in quietly and smiled down at the sight of Q nestled into James’s side. James silently thanked God that he’d reminded him to put his underpants on before falling asleep exhausted two hours earlier. For a man of his age with two battered hands, James thought he’d managed to excel himself – coming twice before letting Q fuck him in the shower, his head bowed between his arms which he’d lifted and rested high against the tiles to avoid the spray of warm water. Conroy smiled when she saw Q. She gently drew Bond’s blanket up from where it lay over his hips to over his shoulders.

“You shouldn't let him get cold 007.” She whispered. “I’ll come back in half an hour – give you time to wake him and for him to get dressed.” James nodded his thanks and waited for her to leave before nuzzling his nose into Q’s hair.

“Tom? Darling?”

Q stretched and woke up by increments his warm body brushing deliciously up against James. He seemed to take a minute to realise where he was.

“James?”

“Wakey wakey Sleepyhead. Conroy will be back in a while and I’m sure she doesn't want to see your skinny arse again.”

Q yawned.

“You seemed quite happy to see my skinny arse last night…” he commented as he rolled out of bed and hunted blearily for his clothes.

“That’s because I happen to quite like fucking your skinny arse.” 

Q sat on the side of the bed and put on his socks.

“You have a very good point there.”

Without having sexual intercourse as a distraction, Q had made short work of un-knotting his tie which he now put on over the clean shirt that he’d extracted from his bag. He was just lacing up his shoes when the door flew open.

“Hello, hello, hello. What’s all this then?”

“Bloody hell, it’s the relationship police.” Q quipped drolly. “To what do we owe this pleasure Miss Moneypenny?”

Eve slunk in looking fabulous in a vivid red dress and matching shoes. She carried a bag from Maison Bertaux in one hand and a tray of drinks in the other.

“Actually I just happened to drop by to bring our brave little soldier a decent breakfast. Croissant?” 

Q slipped his cardigan back on.

“Oh really? So why are there three cups?”

“Did you want one?” she asked innocently holding one out to him, “it’s always handy to have a spare cup of Earl Grey handy, don’t you think? You know, just in case someone else is hanging around? You know? Someone who might need a pick-me-up after a busy night?”

Q laughed as he took the cup and looked at the James pointedly.

“I think she might have rumbled us…”

He let Eve take the chair and settled himself next to James again, helping him with his coffee and croissants. They chit-chatted about office gossip, the weather, the English rugby team until it was time for Eve and Q to start their shifts. As Q fed James the final bite of his breakfast he saw Eve watching them intently.

“You know, that has got to be one of the cutest things I have ever seen.”

Q licked his buttery fingers before planting a resounding kiss on James’s temple.

“Back off Bitch, he’s mine.” He deadpanned before finishing off his tea with a gulp. He slipped off the bed while they were laughing. 

“Right. I’m off to run Q branch. Things don’t just blow themselves up you know.” He turned to James with a smirk. “Well… not usually.”

“Piss off Q.” He retorted with a smile. He watched him collect his bag and leave the room. He looked back at Eve and saw the strange way that she was staring at him. “What?”

She stood up and, to his surprise, hugged him fiercely. She kissed his ear.

“You two are so right for each other,” she sounded almost angry, “I swear to God if you ever hurt that man I will hunt you down, pull your balls off and choke you with them!” James laughed and kissed the side of her neck.

“If I ever hurt him I’ll deserve it.” He murmured.

 

Bond stood patiently with his chin up as Q deftly tied his tie for him in a perfect Half Windsor knot. When he’d finished fussing his collar into place he leaned forward and kissed his freshly-shaven cheek.

“Thank you.”

Q snagged his suit jacket and put it over his shoulders. His shirt sleeves were rolled up over his casts but there was no way his suit sleeves would fit without damaging them. For all the impracticality of a suit, Q had brought one in for Bond to be discharged in without him having to ask. He had known that Bond wouldn't want to be seen in casual clothing. He might be damaged but he was a double-0 and didn't want anyone at MI6 forgetting that. Q picked up the bag that contained Bond’s medication. The ruined clothes he’d been wearing when he came in had long been thrown away.

“Ready?”

Bond smiled. Q smiled back at him, his eyes shining with affection.

“Take me home Tom.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, thanks for reading!
> 
> As usual, it's un-beta'd so apologies for any cock ups. If you spot any, feel free to throw them in my face. <3
> 
> I hang out over on tumblr at iambid.tumblr.com. It's mainly me flailing about Ben Whishaw, Benedict Cumberbatch, photos of naked men and the occasional pussycat being cute but, you know, you're very welcome to come and find me.


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